Drabbles
by Ancalime8301
Summary: A collection of drabbles with various characters, situations, and time periods.


**Note about this collection:** these drabbles are the result of a pseudo-challenge on LiveJournal in October 2004. Authors posted the first lines of any and all of their fics, and others took those lines and made drabbles (100-word pieces of fiction) out of them. This collection is a compilation of all the drabbles I wrote with other people's first lines. The original author's LJ name, the approximate time period, and the exact length will be indicated on each drabble. All were posted on 18 October 2004 unless otherwise noted. And the random O's are simply for spacing purposes (it's hard to read when everything is all packed together).

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O

A/N: from ansothehobbit's line. Pre-Quest. 150 words.

"Pippin, would you please fetch another blanket from the settee?" Frodo said, wrapping himself snug in his own blanket, giving a little sneeze and tucking his feet up beneath him. Pippin dragged all of the blankets from the settee to the couch, sitting at the other end as he threw a blanket over them both. It was not the best visit he'd had, but it was not Frodo's fault he'd caught a cold on his way over and then passed it on to Frodo. He was starting to feel better, and Frodo was feeling worse, so he supposed it all worked out.

But he was still cold, and if his shivering was any indication, so was Frodo. Rising from his comfortable position, he crawled the length of the couch and snuggled next to Frodo, piling all the blankets over them.

When Sam checked on them later, both were fast asleep.

O

O

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O

A/N: from baranduin's line. Post-RotK. 100 words.

The nights are the hardest. He quietly pads through Bag End, sitting for a while in the study, then in the kitchen, then in the sitting room, but always avoiding that dark room and cold bed he once enjoyed. Silence is a necessity, as he does not wish to wake his son with his restlessness, for he would insist on sitting beside his Da?s bed until sleep could be found. Like his namesake, his son could be single-minded about what suited him.

He would rather haunt the other rooms, thinking about what was, and dreaming about what yet might be.

O

O

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O

A/N: from claudia603's line. Pre-Quest. 200 words.

"How is he?" Bilbo asked, eyeing the young lad curled on the parlour windowseat and staring vacantly out the window.

Esmeralda sighed. "We don't know. Whenever we try to get him to talk about it, he withdraws further into himself. He hasn't spoken a word since it happened." She wrung her hands fretfully as she leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "What worries us most is that he has not wept. Perhaps he is too frightened to grieve around us," she shrugged in dismay.

"I will see what I can do," Bilbo patted her shoulder reassuringly and entered the room, closing the door behind him, and going to kneel next to his cousin. He placed a hand comfortingly on the small back and waited, watching Frodo out of the corner of his eye. At first the lad didn't acknowledge his presence, but as the moments dragged on he glanced with increasing frequency in Bilbo's direction.

When Frodo finally turned, Bilbo was attacked with a tight hug of desperation and the pale face buried itself in his waistcoat.

It was with a sense of relief and profound sorrow that Bilbo realized the lad had begun to cry.

O

O

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O

A/N: from danachan's line. Post-Quest. 200 words.

Frodo groaned in quiet frustration, leaning back against Sam?s bare chest. "Why do they insist on so many banquets?"

"They're celebratin'," Sam said simply, reaching for the soap to lather Frodo's hair.

"Must they celebrate every night? Don't they need sleep?" His griping was cut short as he sighed, enjoying Sam massaging his head.

"Your cousins don' mind it."

"My cousins don't mind any opportunity to stuff themselves."

"Rinse," Sam commanded, and Frodo disappeared beneath the water.

"Your turn," he said when he surfaced, and they switched places. As he worked, he wondered aloud. "I don't suppose you could tell Aragorn I would appreciate some time to myself..."

"You couldn' do it?"

"If I tell him, he'll think I'm unwell. If you tell him, you can make up some excuse."

"'E'll think you're unwell, an' that's that."

Frodo heaved an unhappy sigh. "All right, you're done."

Sam submerged with reluctance and reappeared quickly. "Why don' you just ask? Would he say you nay?"

"Even if he didn't, Gandalf likely would."

"What if you said you need some time off your feet? The rock is powerful rough on healing soles."

Frodo laughed. "That just might work. You're a marvel, Sam Gamgee."

O

O

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O

A/N: from duckie710's line. End of Quest. 100 words.

"Try calling his name. Perhaps he can hear you."

Gimli glanced askance at Legolas, doubtful that so wounded a hobbit could hear anything, much less the growl of a dwarf he?d only known for a few months. Nonetheless, it was worth a try...

"Master Hobbit," he called in a low voice. Nothing. He tried again. "Master Peregrin." Still no response. "Pippin."

A breathy groan and the twitch of eyelids confirmed the young hobbit yet lived. Pippin coughed and whimpered as Gimli lifted him, and the dwarf sped his feet towards the camp and the healers who could ensure Pippin's survival.

O

O

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O

A/N: from elwenlj's line. In Mordor. 100 words.

Darkness helped. When the inky mantle of night dropped over the barren land, he no longer had to see and could at least pretend that they were anywhere but here. When it was dark, he could not see what this journey -his journey- was doing to poor Sam, so dirty and worn. When it was dark, he could not see the concern in Sam?s face as he calculated how far the supplies would go. When it was dark, he could not see the accursed Mountain, his ultimate goal.

But when it was dark, the wheel of fire shone ever brighter.

O

O

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O

A/N: from etherealhobbit's line. 100 words.

A far-away voice reached his ears, but he didn?t know that this voice was addressing him. The voice, closer now, called again; he recognized his name, but exhaustion, pain, and fear easily overwhelmed its weak grasp on his attention. He continued to wander in that dark place his mind had fled, his waning strength burdened so there was no escape.

Then he felt the palpable touch of light and hope, the voice so close he thought he should be able to see its owner. Pleading, it drew him slowly forward through the darkness, until he heard, "Welcome back, my friend."

O

O

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O

A/N: from gentlehobbit's line. During Quest. 100 words.

The first sound that came to him was that of falling water. He knew no reason why it should seem familiar, but it did. Memories from not so long ago fell into place and his eyes flew open to behold rock above his head. He studied it as he thought... talking to Faramir... then, the Ring was revealed...

As if on cue, Faramir appeared in his field of vision, and, suddenly afraid, he shrank back as far as he could without toppling off the bed. The Man's expression softened as he understood. "Fear not, Frodo. I seek not your burden."

O

O

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O

A/N: from lilybaggins' line. Post-Quest; mpreg (part of my mpreg universe). 100 words.

He lay in bed as long as possible, staring at the ornately carved beams on the ceiling above. He still ached, rather badly in places, but he urgently needed to visit the privy and then check on little Primula, who would be waking soon for her dawn feeding.

Sitting up slowly, he waited for the dizziness to abate before standing on rubbery legs. Using the bed for support, he slowly made his way across the room.

Having retrieved his drowsy babe, he sank into his rocker and settled them both, sighing in contentment as the birds greeted the new day.

O

O

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O

A/N: from rabidsamfan's line. TTT movie-verse. 100 words.

He shivered and pulled the hood of his cloak a little tighter to keep the wind off his sore head, concentrating on following the backs of Frodo?s heels. That Stinker led them on a winding way; how his master could trust the foul creature was beyond his comprehension. As if in sympathy with his thoughts, his head throbbed in all the spots abused by rocks earlier that day, and he knew he would have quite a lump come nightfall. Stinker looked back at them just in time to see Sam's glare, and he turned quickly away, jabbering nonsensically to himself.

O

O

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O

A/N: from rabidsamfan's line. Post-Quest. 200 words.

It had been a nightmare night again, and the voices in the hall were a welcome summons to the morning. He could identify each voice as it passed his door, and he knew when the footsteps would stop outside his door and push the door open. Closing his eyes and feigning sleep, he hoped the intruder would leave him alone -he did not feel up to company.

Alas, it was Sam, the only one who could tell he was faking. "Didn't you sleep well, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, brushing some hair back from Frodo's face.

Frodo shook his head. "Dreams."

Sam nodded knowingly. "Strider'll give you somethin' to sleep, if you ask."

Frodo sighed into the pillow. "I won't always have Aragorn around. I'd rather muddle through."

"Mayhap you can nap later, then. But you'll want to get up right quick if you don't want Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin to 'wake' you."

"Thank you for the warning, Sam." Frodo yawned and sat up, blinking dazedly when Sam opened the curtains. When Merry and Pippin burst into the room, he was ready for them, beginning a pillow fight that left all four hobbits rolling with laughter and gasping for breath.

O

O

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O

A/N: from rubynye's line. Various times. 100 words.

It had been a good day, and Frodo was very grateful for good days. On good days the memories were distant and didn't touch him. On good days he could almost forget past troubles. On good days it was like Bilbo never left.

It had been a good day, and Frodo was very grateful for good days. On good days he wrote furiously, words flowing from his clear mind onto pristine paper. On good days his wit was sharp and his laugh was ready, bubbling up at a moment's notice.

Good days were his lifeline in surviving the bad days.

O

O

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O

A/N: from serai1's line. Post-Quest. 100 words.

He sat up in bed, his eyes straining into the darkness. Was someone there? Always it had been just his imagination, but his senses prickled and his skin crawled as if something was lurking in the shadows. Throat dry and heart pounding, he tried to reason that no one could possibly be there. Around him the other hobbits slept on, their even breaths normally a comfort, but now masking whatever sounds had woken him. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to lie back down.

"What?s the matter?" asked a sleepy voice beside him.

He sighed. "Nothing. Just a dream."

O

O

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O

A/N: from tialys's line. FotR, post-Weathertop. 100 words.

Frodo had tried to keep himself from shivering, but his body would not obey. Shivering made his wound stab with pain, radiating waves of cold, feeding into a constant cycle of frigid torment. Shivering made him very aware he couldn't feel warmth, only varying degrees of chill.

But it seemed all he could do was shiver. And cry out. He tried to keep himself from crying out, as well, for the sounds he uttered frightened him.

It seemed this wound forced him to do what he tried not to do. Would it, then, finally make him give up the Ring?

O

O

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O

A/N: from trianne's line. End of FotR. 100 words.

Sam had rearranged the contents of his pack three times already that night. Frodo wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused, so he adopted the middle road. "Sam, is something wrong?"

Sam stopped his shuffling, undoubtedly in the midst of rearranging things again, and said hesitantly, "I don' know that we'll have enough, Mr. Frodo, bein' separate from the others an' all."

Frodo rose and crouched beside him, a comforting hand placed atop Sam's where he tightly clutched his pack. "I already have more than I left the Company with, my dear Sam. It will be more than sufficient."

O

O

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O

A/N: from elwenlj's line. Minas Tirith, post-Quest. 275 words. Posted 25 October 2004

The small figure whimpered and stirred as Elrond lifted the heavily padded leg and slipped a soft pillow beneath it. Once the injured limb was settled, the elf arranged the quilts as he worked his way up the bed until he could lay a cool, soothing hand on the fretful brow. Shadowed eyes met his. "I'm sorry," the hobbit whispered.

"You need not apologise," Elrond chided mildly. "A city of Men has many obstacles for smaller folk."

Frodo blushed, embarrassed. "I wouldn't have tripped down those stairs had I not been deep in my cups all evening."

"All the City was in a merry mood. Do not be ashamed of celebrating when there is much cause to be joyful. Does your head yet trouble you?"

Frodo nodded wearily. "A little."

Elrond poured a prepared mixture into a cup; Frodo propped himself up on his elbows to drink, gagging as he choked it down. "The taste cannot be helped," Elrond said by way of apology, but Frodo waved it off.

"No, no. It's better than the Gaffer's morning-after remedy. That concoction is absolutely horrid."

"One would hope its efficacy excuses the taste."

"It works, I'll grant that," Frodo admitted as he laid back down, wincing when his sore leg was jarred.

"You should rest. The others will not be abroad for some time yet."

Frodo smiled dreamily, his eyes already closed. "Pippin will be awake by midday," he predicted. "He'll be hungry. And he'll drag Merry with him..." With a sigh, he slipped into slumber.

Elrond smoothed the quilts over him before turning to ensure the heavy drapes were drawn tightly against the early morning sun.

O

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End file.
